


Things Gained and Lost

by sksdwrld



Series: Hannover Fist [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:23:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1535804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksdwrld/pseuds/sksdwrld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A timestamp in which Saer returns to the barn for the first time after being branded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Gained and Lost

Saer stood in the doorway of the big house, looking out at the landscape, newly green with the onset of spring. In the distance was the barn and a shudder passed through him as he looked at it. As a child, there had been many a tale told around the campfire, warning children of the horrible creatures and wayward spirits that could harm them. There had been many stories too, about the Southern people and their strange and greedy, ill-contrived ways.

But never had Saer been warned that some of the fair-skinned people had evil in their hearts. They cut off limbs, sold humans into slavery, and even killed in retribution for perceived crimes. They hunted and hurt for sport, turning gentle creatures of the earth into aggressive, rage-filled animals and pit them against one another. And once, some of Jeston's own employees had held him down and pressed a hot iron into his skin. His fingers crept to his shoulder and he felt the thick, scarred ridge than spanned over half of his chest beneath his cotton shirt. It was still tight in some places and stretching that arm above his head pained him. The mark was an ugly deformation and the only thing that kept Saer from harboring complete disgust for it was that it was Jeston's. He could never hate the man who had saved him not only from the abuse in the barn, but from the bitter spiral of self-serving that welled up within him.

Jeston finished pulling his boots on and came to stand behind Saer. He pried Saer's fingers away from the scar and kissed them, then brushed his hair away from his neck and kissed that too. Stepping around Saer, he beckoned, and when Saer hesitated, Jeston held out his hand. "You want to see the new foal, don't you?"

Saer had been outside but a few times since he'd been moved to Jeston's own room, sick with fever from his infected brand, but he'd never been back to the barn. He would never go there alone as long as he lived, and he wasn't sure he could go now, even with Jeston there. He swallowed and looked past Jeston to the barn. "When will she be big enough to..." _What was the word?_ "...to pasture?"

"Don't," Jeston said, taking Saer by the arms and shaking him once. Jeston's fingers slid down his arms and curled around Saer's hands. "Don't let a bunch of ignorant peasants burrow into your heart and blight you. You're better than this, stronger, Saer. Where's your fire?"

"Is in you," Saer responded with a small smile and he moved one of his hands to Jeston's breast bone. "I give to you."

"Well, I'm giving it back," Jeston replied. He dipped his head, capturing Saer's mouth. Their lips moved briefly, but not passionlessly before Jeston stepped away. "There, now come. Aine will want all the details."

Jeston took Saer's hand and tugged him across the lawn. When the barn loomed over them, Saer's feet stopped cooperating and took root in the hay strewn over mud. His heart hammered in his chest and his scarred shoulder turned in. Hugging himself, Saer listened to the sounds with which he had once been familiar: the coarse laughter, a metal pick scraping at a hoof, the knickers and whines of great, gentle beasts. He felt Jes's eyes on him but could only look at the ground. _This what they wanted,_ a voice said in Saer's head. It sounded like his grandfather. _To make you afraid of them, to tame the savage, to make him cower. Do not cower, Saer. Hold your head high. Be proud of who you are._

Glancing up, Saer saw only gentle determination in Jeston's eyes and knew he felt the same. His right hand curled into a fist and he thumped the scar on his chest. "I am afraid of no man," he said lowly. Jeston heard and nodded in approval before squeezing Saer's good shoulder. Then they continued into the barn. Saer lifted his chin and strode past each man in turn, a quiet settling over the barn.

In the far stall was the chestnut mare and her roan foal. Saer climbed the gate to look in on them and watched the pair in amazement. His people domesticated only dogs, and in recent years, a handful of feral cats that had made their way north from the Southern settlements. Jeston's people tamed horses, cattle, sheep, goats, chickens, rabbits and ducks, using them to clear the land and for an easy to come by food source. Their days were spent not foraging or hunting but tending crops and animals, refining their clothes, and corresponding with one another.

Saer had been thrust into another world, it seemed, but he could see the appeal. It was an easier life, a warmer life; richer in some ways but bereft in many others. This tender scene before him was but a reminder that Saer would never take a wife who would bear the child of his hearth. There would never be a squalling babe over whom he would fawn and tickle with feathers or long grass. There was Aine, of course, and Saer cared deeply for her but she was not his own and he had not raised her, had not provided for her. He was not a father to her.

Jeston was two stalls away, stroking his horse and feeding her bits of an apple. Glancing up, he caught Saer's eye and passed him a smile. "She's a real beauty, isn't she?"

"Yes," Saer slipped down from the gate and went to stand by Jeston, reaching out to pat the stallion and scratch his nose. The horse snuffed at Saer's fingers, nipping his palm when he realized they were empty. Saer snorted and pushed the horse's nose fondly away and Jeston laughed, passing him the last piece of apple. He slipped his arm around Saer's waist and stroked his hip.

Saer leaned forward, resting his cheek against the horse's sleek fur for just a moment. Then he pulled back and sank against Jeston, the man who'd saved him; the man who needed him; the man who loved him. Closing his eyes, he felt the warmth and fondness that passed between them. It was enough. It had to be.


End file.
